Socratic Love
by Princess Kitty1
Summary: [Eros Epilogue] Six years after the death of Ulquiorra Cifer, his wayward ex-roommate appears at his grave with questions, flowers, and pneumonia.


**A/N: **This is an **epilogue for my story **_**Eros**_, which was not published here because sex. You'll find a link to said story in my profile. Why wasn't this epilogue included in the first narrative? It took crossing over _Muse_ and _Tell Yourself_ for fun to gain an understanding of how Ulquihime works in my various alternate universes, and once I knew that, I discovered what happened to Orihime after the events of _Eros._ Thus, epilogue.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach or any other copyrighted material.

**Socratic Love**

**By: Princess Kitty1**

**a. Undefined**

I do not know what love is. Neither, I suspect, does anyone else.

We can say with certainty that it exists, but what _is _it? As a species, we've spent the whole of our civilized existence trying to define it.

Love is holding a door open for someone. Love is taking a bullet for someone. Love is having sex with someone. Love is sending someone flowers and chocolates. Love is holding someone's hand. Love is reading books to someone. Love is visiting someone at the hospital. Love is repairing someone's clothing. Love is driving out hundreds of miles to surprise someone. Love is getting down on one knee and presenting a ring and asking someone a question. Love is cutting up food for someone so they won't choke. Love is telling someone to stop hurting themselves.

But those things are also "chivalry" (which is, by proxy, "sexist" nowadays); "stupidity;" "recklessness;" "lust;" "lack of foresight;" "wastes of money;" "friendship;" "common acts of kindness." You do not have to love a person to do these things for them.

I need to know what love is. I have my suspicions, but I want to be sure. My boyfriends – the few that I've had in the last six years – they always claimed they loved me. I thought that meant they'd be with me forever, because that's what my understanding of love used to be. Love is eternal. Love never ends, until it does, and your thought-to-be life partner walks off with an apologetic grimace.

It happened just the other day, before this pesky cough turned into the loud ones carving up my throat and lungs. He said our lives were going in different directions, whatever that means. I smiled, told him it was okay – even though it wasn't – and left it at that. Because loving someone was also defined as letting them go.

How can ending a relationship be an act of love when love is supposed to last forever? Do you understand why I'm confused?

So I figured I would come to see you. We never talked about these things in the past because I never wanted to. It was kind of a touchy subject for me back then – still is, if my emotional distress is anything to go by. But you were always so smart, always ready with seemingly obvious answers to questions that scrambled my brains. I suspect that you might have known the true definition of love; and that you were trying, in a quiet, desperate sort of way, to show it to me.

**b. Polar Vortex**

Right now, there is no place in the country that has remained untouched by arctic air. Temperatures have plummeted below zero in the north, cities are buried in white blankets, road conditions are extremely dangerous. My own car has careened into snowy embankments once or twice – it's taken quite a beating. I'm okay, though. Don't worry about me.

I left work during my lunch break two days ago and didn't return. It's one of the most irresponsible things I've ever done. Even now, thinking about it, I giggle to myself when I'm not coughing up blood, like a schoolgirl playing hooky. Suddenly I felt like I couldn't be there anymore. I've had all these racing thoughts since the breakup, thoughts that wouldn't shut up until I set out on this lonely drive. I didn't even take my phone with me.

My friends will be worried, sure, but I'm a firm believer in impulsivity. I may lose my job, but at least I can tell somebody about the time that I drove cross-country with pneumonia during a freak winter storm. They'll either call me stupid or commend my courage.

I love the way everything looks right now. The trees are nearly bent in half, supporting icicles too heavy for their branches. Lakes and ponds and puddles are frozen, making crossing the gas station parking lot to pay for a refill an adventure of its own. In every small town I've driven through, I've seen snowmen and snowwomen in all sizes. Some of them wear mittens, scarves, hats. Some of them have lovers and children. Others are as alone as I am.

I've been so excited about the weather that I haven't even stopped to sleep much unless I absolutely had to. There's something magical about snow falling at night. It hardly looks like night at all, especially in cities and places where lots of buildings are clumped together. The light carries for miles.

There have been some troubles, though. Like I mentioned, my car has been gliding, sliding, and threatening to give neighbors love taps when I try to stop or slow down. The doors have frozen shut on me, and more than once I've had to give the windshield a good scraping. Visibility in places where the snow fell fast and hard was a nightmare.

Worth it, though. I've just about reached my destination, which is good, because I've been increasingly dizzy lately, and I've thrown up more than I care to admit.

**c. Here Lies Love**

I was amazed that everything looked the same. The university – all brick buildings, trimmed lawns, roaming students, and pomp and circumstance – hadn't changed. Our apartment complex was as haphazardly maintained as usual. My old haunts were all there. Paint still faded. Potholes remained unfilled. It's like the city purposefully tries to preserve its rustic college town feel, so that incoming freshmen are deluded into thinking they've made it to a quality institution, and alumni of all ages have the same flavor of nostalgia.

I'd never been to the cemetery though, so I couldn't tell if that much had remained the same. The woman I bought these blue flowers from kept stealing worried glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking. She asked if she'd seen me before, and I assured her that it was my first time visiting. We left it at that.

I don't know what I was expecting. A crypt? A statue? The classic headstone with "beloved something to somebody" carved beneath your name and details? None of that. Just _Ulquiorra Cifer_, a random day that happened before I was born, and the day that ruined both of our lives.

That's selfish of me to say, isn't it? At least I'm still living. At least I'm here, breathing shallowly, most of my blood still right where it belongs. You haven't blinked in six years. God, such weird and morbid thoughts I'm having today! I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be begging you to tell me what love is.

You don't have to answer me, though. I understand if you're angry with me. It was my fault that all of this happened in the first place. But I'm alive, so I can plead.

Hey. Say something. You love me, don't you? If true love lasts forever and you died loving me, then that means you're the only guy who ever has, right?

Come on, please don't leave me hanging. I didn't come all this way for nothing. I even brought you flowers.

I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

**d. Cadaver**

There's flower pollen all over my coat. I need to send it to the dry cleaners before I go back to work. Guess that means I should get up now.

I'm so tired, though. Driving that far without sleeping is finally catching up to me. And this snow is unexpectedly warm. So soft. Perfect for a nap. I'll take a nap, and then I'll be on my way. How does that sound?

You'd probably tell me that napping in the snow isn't a good idea; that I'll get sick. Joke's on you! I'm already sick, so there. No harm in resting here for a few minutes.

You know what else was unexpectedly warm? The way you looked at me after we… you know. I never wanted to look at you because I didn't want to admit that you adored me like my boyfriend never did. It made me angry. I don't like being angry, and I was already angry all the time.

Anyway, we broke up later, just like you said we would. I hated that you were right, so I never thought about you. For six whole years, I didn't think of you once. I pushed the memories and the guilt and the blame aside and acted like you'd never happened.

But you were there at the end of every breakup with a haughty "I told you so." I felt you like a cold breeze blowing in through an open door. When I finally allowed myself to think of you, a few days ago, while sitting at my computer at work, I wondered if you'd been sabotaging my relationships. I almost called up my ex and asked if you'd said anything to him.

Heh, surprise! I really came here to make sure that you were still dead. Not sure what I'd have done if you weren't. Screamed, maybe?

"_Miss?"_

No… that isn't right, either. It kind of is. I don't know. Why did I drive all the way here again?

"_Miss!_"

There was defining love, and apologizing, bringing you flowers, and checking you hadn't gone anywhere. That sounds an awful lot like seeking closure, doesn't it?

"_Hello, yes, I'm at the cemetery on… young woman, not breathing…_"

I never got closure. Not with you, not with Ichigo, not with anyone who came after. I let go of all of you without once raising my voice to ask you to stay.

"…"

If I had, would you still be alive?

"That's enough, woman."

"…_coming to you from… body of a young woman discovered in… no signs of foul play…_"

Oh. You were here after all.

"Ulquiorra, do you know what love is?" I'm still lying in the snow. A fresh wave has started to fall, settling on the tombstone where you sit, regarding me with this annoying air of satisfaction.

"No," you reply, getting to your feet and approaching me. "I do have my theories, however." Then you hold out your hand to me, and I only briefly consider chasing after my body – which is being carried off in another direction – before taking it.

**/End/**


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